People of the Thunder (North America's Forgotten Past) (61 page)

Heron Wing saw Seven Dead place a restraining hand on Blood Skull’s arm when he started forward to protest. Behind her, the chiefs were whispering apprehensively.

“My warriors are hungry,” Great Cougar stated bluntly. “We expected to find food in Split Sky City.”

“That might be arranged,” Seven Dead said, stepping forward. “But, perhaps we would feed you here . . . a bit farther from the walls?”

“What’s left of them.” Great Cougar seemed to steel himself. “Before we go any further, there is something else. The other reason I have decided to talk before destroying you.”

Blood Skull continued to bristle.

“Easy, War Chief,” Heron Wing whispered.

“And that is?” Seven Dead asked politely.

Great Cougar raised his arm, and the warriors parted behind him. Morning Dew stepped through their ranks. Heron Wing recognized the beautiful dress she wore. It was one of her favorites.

Morning Dew’s hair was washed, combed, and gleaming in the sunlight. The dress emphasized her full breasts, narrow waist, and round hips as she strode up to stop beside Great Cougar. She looked Heron Wing straight in the eye, nodded, and said, “Good day, Matron.”

“I am not a matron.”

“That is the Chikosi’s great loss.”

“I shall miss you, Morning Dew.”

The woman smiled, then looked down at the long object in Heron Wing’s hands. Her eyes widened, one hand rising to the decorated quill work at her breast as if to still a suddenly pounding heart.

Heron Wing stepped to her, offering the long stone sword she’d taken from under Smoke Shield’s bed. “The man who owned this is dead. I have brought it to you. It is my gift, along with the freedom that I promised.” She smiled ironically. “Though it seems that you obtained it in a different manner than I had planned.”

“I can’t take that.” Morning Dew stepped back a pace.

“It became yours the night you killed the Chahta captives.”

Whispers broke out. Blood Skull began cursing under his breath.

Morning Dew swallowed hard, looking down at her hands. “How . . . How did you know?”

“For a long time I didn’t. Then I remembered the blood on your hands the day Thin Branch brought you to me . . . and how frantically you scrubbed to remove it. It was more than a bloody nose would merit. You didn’t mourn for your husband and brother—though I know you loved them with all of your heart. Then I understood: You made your peace with them the night you set their souls free, didn’t you?” Heron Wing dropped to her knees, extending the stone sword. “Only the bravest woman alive could have done what you did. You have earned this through your sacrifice and raw courage. As the winters pass, take it and hold it, and remember the strength and daring you demonstrated that terrible foggy night.”

Morning Dew reached out with trembling hands, taking the long ritual sword, pulling the handle back to see the blood-encrusted stone. As if the sight steadied her, she straightened, head high, saying, “Thank you, Heron Wing. I shall always honor you.”

“Can we make an end of this?” Blood Skull fumed.

Morning Dew ignored him, calling, “I would address the man known as Green Snake, of the Chief Clan, of the Hickory Moiety.”

“Me?” Green Snake asked, obviously surprised.

Heron Wing studied Morning Dew’s stiff posture: It was a mixture of excitement tempered with uneasy resolve.

Morning Dew stared straight ahead as she firmly said, “I am Morning Dew of the Chief Clan, matron of the White Arrow Moiety of the Chahta People. You are Green Snake of the Chief Clan, of the Hickory Moiety. We are both descended from the line of high minkos. As a means of ending hostilities between our peoples, I am here to propose marriage between us.”

Marriage?

Heron Wing gaped, her heart hammering. “Morning Dew?”

In a low voice, Morning Dew said, “I am a matron. We need a symbol, a reason to make peace. . . . And, it seems I must have a husband.” She turned back to Green Snake. “Are you in agreement?”

Heron Wing turned to stare at Green Snake, reading the confusion on his face. He glanced at her, helpless, eyes frantic.

Heron Wing felt herself crumbling.
Gods, yes, it makes perfect sense.
“In Breath Giver’s name, Green Snake, tell her yes.”

“Yes,” he replied weakly.

How could I have just said that?
Her souls were wilting. Assuming he still married her, she, Heron Wing, would be a second wife. Worse, she would have to share this man. Somehow, in her Dreams, she had thought she could have him to herself—at least for a while.

Everything comes at a price, Heron Wing.

Morning Dew stepped forward, taking Green Snake’s hand. She turned, looking back at her warriors. “My husband and I thank you for the hard run you have made through storm and rain, up steep hills, over fallen trees, and across swollen streams. Because you have worked so hard—have run with such diligence—it appears that you have managed to arrive just in time for my marriage! I congratulate you all!”

A cheer went up from the warriors. They clacked their bows against shields and war clubs. Great Cougar, looking somewhat disappointed, added his voice to the rest.

Her world reeling, Heron Wing watched as Morning Dew turned to the Sky Hand. “This is a most auspicious marriage! Can the Sky Hand provide a feast worthy of this occasion? We will need games! I propose a grand stickball match in the plaza. The best of your Sky Hand shall play my Chahta! I will wager our restitution for Alligator Town against what you would offer White Arrow Town. Let Power decide!”

Heron Wing blinked. It was masterfully done. A complete defusing of tensions. She stared helplessly at Morning Dew.
Are you the same woman I once washed?

Old White glanced at the shocked chiefs and stated, “Hickory Moiety, and the Chief Clan, can feed them if no one else will.” He clapped his hands. “Besides, there is enough wood in that fallen palisade to make a spectacular bonfire!” Old White laid a familiar hand on Great Cougar’s shoulder. “Now, about this tooth.” He pulled the walrus tusk from his pack. “It’s more than fair Trade for that spectacular cup of yours. This comes from the far north, from a beast . . .”

Heron Wing didn’t hear the rest as Morning Dew reached down and helped her to her feet. “Forgive me, my friend,” she whispered into Heron Wing’s ear. “It was the only way.”

Ten winters had passed since Horned Serpent swallowed Smoke Shield and took the copper. Green Snake sat under one of the Trading ramadas above the canoe landing and watched sunset burn yellow and red in the western clouds. The warm light shot burning beams across the sky to merge with bluish purple in the darkening east. Columns of insects rose and whirled on transparent wings. Behind Green Snake the familiar sounds of the city intruded. He could hear the thump, thump of the pestles where women pounded corn. Children laughed, and a dog barked.

Before him the river glowed a molten copper color, as if the great plate had floated to the surface and become the river itself. The smooth waters swirled, flowing silently on their endless journey to the gulf. He fixed his eyes on the center of the current, remembering the day the Contrary’s canoe was upended.

He reached down, running a hand through old Swimmer’s thick fur. The dog huffed a satisfied sigh, his attention fixed on the river. The hair around his muzzle and head had gone white, half the teeth had fallen from his jaws, and he hobbled on stiff joints.

But he seemed to see well enough despite his now-blind eyes—oh, yes, he did.

Trader smiled down. “I still think it’s a miracle.”

Swimmer’s tail thumped in companionship as it had through all the long years.

“We’ve seen some things, you and I.” He’d been devastated as Swimmer’s eyesight began to fade.

The suggestion had come from Born-of-Sun:
“You have Horned Serpent’s scales. Use them, as the Kala Hi’ki did when he was still alive.”

So Trader had fixed the crystals on a piece of cloth that he tied over Swimmer’s eyes. Now they caught the sunset light as Swimmer turned his head, fixing on a fisherman’s canoe out in the river.

Just after each spring equinox, he came here with Swimmer to relive the great journey down the rivers. Here, for an afternoon, he could be with Old White and Two Petals. Their voices would echo in his souls, and he shared their companionship again.

“Nothing is forever,” he whispered, thoughts going to the wooden pack that rested on the altar in his house. It was only after Old White’s last adventure that Green Snake had dared to open the curious wooden box. There, inside, he had found drawings made on thin sections of hide. Each had been perfectly rendered. Some he knew: dolphins, whales, cougars, and so forth. The Great Palace at Cahokia was familiar; a mountain shooting smoke and fire was not. Others were strange: the image of a bearded white man with blue eyes; a bloodred stone temple with bodies strewn down its steps; a masked Dancer with a round face; animals with flippers, a white snow house with a short man in furs by the door.

“Still here?” Heron Wing asked as she walked down and joined him under the ramada. “You stay longer every spring.” She glanced at him. “Not thinking of following Two Petals and Old White, are you?”

He gestured toward the water. “I was watching the light. Look, the copper has come to the surface.”

“Well, no one’s ever found it down there, and Breath Giver knows, enough have dived for it.” She seated
herself beside him, taking his hand. “Old White knew what he was doing. So did the Contrary. Whippoorwill has told you often enough. Why don’t you believe her?”

“Oh, I do. Remember, I
saw
it that day when I dove down. It wasn’t just the light in the water, Heron Wing. His sides glowed like a rainbow, and Two Petals, she was riding on his back. She looked back, smiling, as Horned Serpent dove down.”

“Then you know Old White found what he was looking for.”

To change the subject, he said, “A Trader arrived. Stone won the White Arrow Town stickball match for the Sky Hand. He scored an incredible six points. Morning Dew hosted a feast in his honor. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Serves her right. She taught him.” Heron Wing pulled her long hair back, streaked now with gray. If anything her face had grown more beautiful with age. She had developed a serenity of soul that no woman he had ever known possessed.

She laid her hand on his. “Then you know Morning Dew sent for you. There’s some sort of squabble between the Chikosi and Chahta over the new farmsteads up on the divide. She would like your help settling it. And she may want another child now that she’s weaned the last one.”

“You’d think she was founding her own clan.”

“A clan? You keep giving her sons. I think your first wife would like a daughter to continue her line.”

“You’ll always be my first wife, no matter when I married you.”

“I know.” She smiled into his eyes. “And you keep giving me daughters. But it might be wise to spend a couple of moons at White Arrow Town. She loves you, too.”

“Anything else?” he asked.

“Councilor Lotus Root would like to see you when you get a chance. She wishes you to take a proposal to the tchkofa. And High Minko Sun Falcon would like to know when you’re going to travel up to see Born-of-Sun again.”

“I’d rather stay and play with your children. Stone may live and breathe stickball, but he needs a little work on his chunkey game.”

“My son will be fine.” She glanced at him. “Come, let’s go home, and you can decide which of your obligations you wish to attend to.”

With Swimmer hobbling along behind, they walked up from the canoe landing. He still hadn’t grown used to the changes in Split Sky City. The palisade was long gone, and people had been moving away. Most now lived around the river towns, where the soils were better. Only a few of the old houses were left, but the entire valley still flocked here for the celebrations, and to bring their dead for burial in the clan mounds.

At the top of the slope he turned to look back at the river, and the old familiar ache deadened his heart.

Heron Wing read his longing. “The Seeker was dying. He knew it, Pale Cat knew it, and you knew it. What did you expect?”

“Do you think he found Horned Serpent and the Contrary down there?”

“You were there.”

“Then why do I still miss him so?”

“Because he’s not really dead.” She searched his eyes. “You can feel that in your souls, can’t you? Eight winters have passed since he left. By now he’s walked halfway across the Underworld; who knows what sights he’s seen?”

Old White’s words echoed in Trader’s souls.
“Don’t be a silly fool! Of course I’m going. I’m the Seeker, and I’m not ready to be a corpse. Worse, I can’t stand the
way you fuss over me!”
He’d looked down at his shrunken body.
“Down there, my souls can see things no one else has.”
He’d lifted his sack of copper, accumulated through intricately conceived Trading.
“It’s not that wondrous plate that Smoke Shield took, but it ought to be enough.”
He’d grinned.
“Besides, Two Petals owes me. She said she’d come when I was ready.”